The Promise
by alchemyfreak42
Summary: He had broken the one promise he had sworn never to break- the one that had meant everything to her, and now they could never go back to that happy world of hugs and smiles.


Winry _screamed_ in rage.

He had broken his promise.

He had broken the one promise she was sure he would never break, the one she had been sure would last forever, had placed her faith in.

He had promised.

She paced, holding onto the anger with an iron fist, not willing to let anything past it. It was a wall, impenetrable around her heart. She would never forgive him for this.

Anything else- _anything_ else, she could have forgiven him for.

But this? This was shameful, unforgivable, the biggest, worst, most awful thing anyone could ever do. And she had _loved_ him.

How could he do this to her? How could he break his promise- _the_ promise?

She abruptly burst into tears, unable to contain the rage, the disappointment, the _pain_.

"Winry, I-"

" _Shut up!"_ She screamed, the anger back to its former fury, a tempest roaring inside of her. She would hear no excuses, no ' _I'm sorry_ 's or ' _please forgive me_.'

This was the _one_ thing he had sworn he would never do to her, the only thing that was impossible to take back or for her to forgive. Any other offense he could commit, any other attack on her person. But not this. She would not forgive or forget, she would _remember_ , as long as she lived, that he had done this to her.

How _could_ she forget something like this?

"I'm _sorry_."

It was a miserable, sad sound full of guilt and regret. She glared at the golden eyes and blonde hair with puffy eyes.

"I don't want to hear it," she said, choking on the sheer _amount_ of emotion that demanded release, ordered her to let it fly in the form of a wrench or another howl of furious misery.

She looked at the scene before her with a heart of stone, because if she allowed in a single emotion other than this frenzy, she would break, shatter into a thousand tiny pieces that nobody could ever put back together.

The tears returned again, flooding from her eyes as a river, choking, drowning her in the salt.

How could he have done this to her? He'd _promised_.

She turned away from the boy before her, shoulders shaking, but didn't pull away when he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulled her head gently to his chest.

He was taller than she was, an idle thought amongst all the rest that she wondered why she was thinking at this moment. It was wrong that she should think it in this moment, when her world had just been destroyed with such finality.

The arms around her tightened and she could feel their owner shaking, with rage, with disappointment, with the same agony she felt.

He'd broken his promise, and both of them were well aware of it, knew that the offense could never be forgotten.

After this, he would never come here again.

They would never share a friendly smile or have an argument over nothing again. That was all gone, their relationship irreparably broken in the moment he had broken his promise.

"I didn't want this, either."

"I know," she said, shaking.

"I couldn't do anything."

"I know."

Her knees gave out and they slid to the ground, his arms tight around her and her hands clenched on the plain shirt before her.

"- _Promised."_ She mumbled, unable to think of anything else.

"It's my fault."

She didn't say anything. She knew better than to say anything like this, when they were both trying to hold themselves together as best as they could.

Time went on and the sun began to fall, not aware that it should have frozen in place the moment she had found out that the promise had been broken. Why did the sun not care that the world had ended?

The shadows lengthened and the sky filled with pinks and reds, colors she would never see the same way again.

"-Alphonse?" She asked eventually, her muscles stiff from holding the same position and her throat sore from sobbing for hours. He understood the question, the statement, everything she was trying to say and ask, even if she didn't get anything else out.

"Yeah."

The single word was the only thing she could think of. He might never return, but they were here, together with this pain for the moment.

"Idiot." The word was quiet, hardly more than a whisper.

"Moron," he said just as quietly.

"Jerk."

"Damnit," he muttered quietly, choking on the word as his arms tightened again from where they had eventually relaxed during the previous hours.

"Why?"

"I can't answer that."

Their suffering was unparalleled, above anything she'd felt in years, as they understood that the world would continue to pass them by and that they would have to, at some point, get up and move forward once more.

But it would never be the same. No more smiles or hugs, kisses under the stars on a clear night or murmurs of affection by a rippling creek. There would be no more of that, and she would be hard pressed to convince herself to make an apple pie any time soon.

It would mean too much, to bake an apple pie or to cook a pot of stew when he wouldn't be there to eat it with her or to get seconds and thirds, argue over who got the last piece or what to get at the store. There would be no more visits to Central together or shopping trips at expensive hardware stores.

All the potential for any of that had gone the moment he had broken the promise.

She wanted the rage, needed it so she could pull herself together and stop her heart from breaking down more than it already was, but she couldn't. The rage was gone, leaving pain and emptiness in its wake.

She gripped Alphonse's shirt tighter and felt him shudder as she began crying once more.

Edward had broken his promise. He was never returning.

Why had he died?


End file.
